"She ought to win the Oaks."
"Come, now, isn't she superb?"
"A glory. A novelist would call her a dream."
"Ah, I thought you would say so. You know what a horse is."
"When I see one," I said. "I thought you said this was a mare."
This is what the Squire thought,—
"Well, of all the dull devils I ever met, you are the most utterly unappreciative!"
He was at his wits' end, although you must be clever if you can perceive the wits' end of a punster.
"That's Morning Star," said he. "Now do you know why I call her Morning Star?"
I answered truthfully I did not.